Sugar Pill Week
by lawrrasaur
Summary: Emma gets her period with unusual pain and Killian comforts. Takes place in pretend land between Breaking Glass and Family Business. Slightly hurt/comfort but mainly fluff and some smut.
1. Chapter 1

**This will be a three part fic that can be taken as a missing scene, with some M material ****coming up, but fluff too because the hiatus makes me depressed. I thought it would be interesting to see something like this between them, where Emma is a total girl in terms of period symptoms and Killian is the boyfriend that doesn't exist in real life. **

**Chapter One**

Emma didn't think anything out of the ordinary when she awoke to a familiar dull throb in her lower abdomen. Typically she experienced some very light and manageable cramping in the few days approaching her period as well as the first few days into it. With birth control being the edible calendar it was, she knew exactly when to expect these unwelcome guests. That was three days ago, three days before her sugar pill week, her headaches and cramps arrived. What _did _come as a surprise was the fact that they went from manageable to downright vicious, but Emma paid no real mind. With all the hullabaloo happening in town, she didn't have the time.

So here she was, right on schedule, and hell, it was a Monday too. What else. With the damn Snow Queen slipping out of their grasp again, that old tape showing her as Emma's foster mom, her rocky road to recovery with Regina, and that goddamn Will Scarlet, plus all of her regular Sheriff responsibilities. She did not need her period on a damn Monday.

_Que sera sera, _she thought, _just another day in Storybrooke_. As her thoughts turned to Killian, (which happened more and more it seemed) Emma allowed herself a small smile at least in that. Yes, things were getting easier there. Beyond easy, really. Killian wasn't as much of a weight on her mind as he used to be; the least of disquieting questions as 'could she, should she, would she' frequenting her sleepless nights. But who knew giving in would turn out the way it did. However she was still- how could she put it- cautious? Emma was certain he could sense that about her, with her being an open book as he once claimed. But she could also sense that it didn't bother him. He was good at… well _her_. He was good at handling her, at knowing her, at showing her how to trust, at touching her. Oh God, was he good at touching her. Despite all of the progress though, Emma still felt her walls at half mass. Killian had his work cut out for him. So far he was doing spectacularly, and miracle of miracles, she was enjoying herself immensely.

But today even her 'Killian smile' didn't stay for long on her face. She could actually feel herself getting grumpier by the minute. Just in the half hour it took her to dress, apply her makeup and make it to the kitchen, her mood declined so much she nearly bitched out her father for trying to take the last bear claw. Her mother was better at recognizing the signs, being a woman herself, but David was less aware, especially since he was much less accustomed to his daughter's moods. Mary Margaret had politely shooed David out of the kitchen, claiming a sudden cute thing that Neal was doing. Emma sighed as she watched them go, her mother turning back to give Emma a knowing look, widening her eyes and smirking in a _poor David, but I'm still laughing_ kind of way.

Emma wondered if she would be tempting fate by going down to the station. She sensed that at the rate things were going, an office-and-florescent-lights environment would be the perfect catalyst for her bitchy mood to develop a new bitchy strain. Add a couple of well meaning- but nonetheless irritating- townsfolk complaints (ie: Leroy making a fuss about the pot hole on the main road) and she might have her very own homicide to add to her resume. She considered that momentarily. _High school- GED, hobbies- Saviour, spare time- completely justified but vicious murderer._

But… everything that was happening in town and all the file boxes her and Elsa had yet to sort through, she couldn't find it in her to take a sick day.

Instead, she threw caution to the wind, took a double espresso shot, cocoa in her to go mug with _extra_ cinnamon, one reclaimed bear claw, and a stock pile of Pamprin. Emma headed out the door without so much as a goodbye to her parents.

"Well, I'm glad we missed out on her melodramatic teen years, aren't you?" asked a wounded David from the safe distance of their room when the front door slammed.

"Oh David, you are such an oblivious father sometimes," Mary Margaret rolled her eyes as she patted Neal's back.

"What? Do you think something happened with Hook?" She again gave him a look only a woman could conjure.

"Let's just say you'll never have to worry about Neal getting snippy with you at certain times of the month. Right Neal?" she cooed. When she turned her eyes up to look at David she was met with a mostly stunned, but slightly horrified expression.

Just arriving at the station, Emma was in a little better spirits, be it the espresso or the fresh air from the ride over, or perhaps a combination of the two, for the moment she felt okay. But as predicted, that all changed as soon as she unlocked the door and entered the station, flicking on dreary florescent lights as she went. Since it was her turn to open up, she knew she had only a few minutes to herself before Elsa and then her father arrived. Taking advantage of such a precious commodity, she sat in her office, closed her eyes and leaned back, soaking in the silence. Emma was no softy when it came to her pain threshold, but if she wasn't mistaken, those cramps were becoming decidedly more pronounced.

She mentally shrugged it off, it was nothing she couldn't handle.

"Good morning, Emma," chirped Elsa as she glided gracefully into the room, her trademark gown flowing regally. Goddamn Disney characters and their perpetual cheer. Emma tried to smile but was unsure of what her face ended up looking like.

"Oh," Elsa looked taken aback, "are you not feeling well?"

"Of sorts," replied Emma pushing out a breath, "so why don't you try and get through M-N boxes today? And I'll focus on these court records," she gestured in front of her, hoping that Elsa would get the hint that Emma was going to stay in her office.

"Sure Emma," she said hesitantly and made her way to the deputy's desk.

Later, when it was almost noon, a headache had banged its way in and the throbbing in her lower abdomen had only increased- far worse than normal. She tried first some Advil, then realizing it did nothing, she gave in and took some Pamprin. Even then it seemed to take just the edge off, but just the edge no longer seemed to be helping. A knock on her office door forced Emma to lift her head from her hands and peer up over the piles of paperwork to see her father, arms crossed and casually leaning against the doorframe.

"Emma, if you need a personal day, I can take over. I'm more than capable."

"I'm fine," but Emma's voice didn't sound convincing.

"You should go," he insisted, taking a hesitant step toward her.

"I'm not going to bite you," she said amused, but it came out exasperated and angry. She immediately winced at the pain her own raised voice caused her throbbing head.

David's eyebrows shot up along with his hands as he dared chuckle at her, "you sure?"

"Okay!" Emma acquiesced, standing to gather her things. "And you can quit with the smirk," she tried to hide her sheepish smile. David stayed by the door, wise not to try and help her. _Hmm, mom taught him well, _Emma thought, and her brain was suddenly flooded with images of her parents from when she and Killian fell into the Wicked Witch's time portal. Witnessing the very beginnings of her family had only made her that much more sore for missing out on her childhood with them. Even though she had since made peace with it, an uninvited wave of emotion passed over her and her eyes stung with tears. Damn it all.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said almost silently and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She remembered wishing for this kind of treatment from her father when she was very young, and very wistful in thinking her parents would magically find her. It had taken a long time for her to abandon those fantasies, still, after all this time, here he was. If her over emotional reaction surprised him, he didn't show it, he didn't call attention to her brimming eyes, or question it, he just squeezed her and kissed her hair, cradling her head like always.

"Get some rest," he said with all the gentleness in the realms.

_Mom __**really**_ _taught him well._

Emma was almost out the door when Elsa caught up to her.

"Emma," she said, grabbing her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry Elsa, I should have let you know. I'm taking the rest of the day off. I'm… sick."

"Yes. I might be able to help with that." Emma gave her a look of confusion.

"Between us ladies, I know what your 'sick' means. I am a stranger to this world's remedies, but I might have a suggestion."

"Okay, well I'm glad we decided to breeze over the awkwardness of that subject," said Emma sarcastically.

"Have you tried your magic?"

Emma paused, surprised. As it happened, no, it had never occurred to her. She briefly wondered if there was a spell or… she made a mental note to ask Regina about it later.

"No, actually. But thanks for the idea," she said truly appreciative, but turning again to leave. Her head was really pounding.

"Emma, wait. I'll just show you what I… here it might help." She waved her hand toward Emma and a whoosh of white spirals and sparkles flowed over her. Emma felt a coldness, although not uncomfortable, settle on her lower belly, exactly where she would place a heating pad. She curiously lifted her shirt.

Emma saw a very thin, blue tinged sheet formed to her lower belly and beneath her jeans. She felt a pleasant liquiform sensation that was something like the ultrasound gel they squirted onto her belly when she was pregnant with Henry. Of course, then it had been too cold, but now the temperature change came as a relief.

"It won't give you an ice burn, or melt," Elsa said assuringly. "Is it too cold? I never have to worry about that for myself," she half laughed, "but this is what I cast for Anna."

"No, it feels nice, it- I would never think to try ice. I usually go for a heating pad." The fire and throbbing was lessened and pleasantly numbed, and happily, it helped.

"Uhm, thanks," Emma said, still acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation.

"You're welcome. What are friends for?" Elsa smiled up at her honestly. With that, Emma realized the specialty of the moment and felt herself getting emotional again.

"Of course. Thanks again, I'll see you tomorrow?" Emma said, and turned to get the hell out of there before she started crying. Again.

Emma was at a complete and total loss for what was happening to her, she was never _this_ bad. Usually, some cramps and headaches which were 100% manageable, and at her very worse there were only cravings and occasional mood swings- but never has it disrupted her life and so much that people _knew_ she was PMSing. She felt like she was pregnant again, with her beyond emotional reactions and… "Really?! Swollen feet?" She mumbled as she made her way to the Volkswagen. And the cramps felt like a fuel station explosion going on inside her. The headache was getting worse too, she felt a firm dizziness set in as she drove home. God, is this what some women dealt with on a regular basis?

Thanks to Elsa, the ice blanket (or whatever it was) was helping, But Emma still felt like she was getting worse. She fumbled with her keys at the door and tried for what seemed like minutes before finally unlocking it, her head about to explode for all the throbbing. All she could think about was passing out on her bed.

Once inside Emma shed her jacket immediately, suddenly feeling very hot. She threw her keys down and headed straight to her room. Losing no time (except for the minute she took to examine the ice sheet a bit closer) she stripped, trading her jeans, shirt and bra for her favorite comfy outfit. So welcome was the change that Emma found herself exclaiming verbally as she stretched in her comfortable attire, the ice sheet flexing with her.

"God, that's good!" Her own voice echoing around seemed to remind her that she was in her apartment, which meant she probably wasn't alone. She froze for a moment, fully expecting someone to call up to her or come into her room.

When nothing happened, she realized with a rush of happiness that it was the middle of the day and _no one was home. _Henry was at school, Mary Margaret and Neal were at the Mayor's office, and David and Elsa at the sheriff's station. Home alone and Emma felt worse than the last time she had the flu.

_The things I do to get an afternoon alone._

She went into the bathroom to remove her makeup and rinse her face with cold water, then took two more pills and climbed into bed, curling into the fetal position. She just wanted to sleep through this nightmare. Right as she closed her eyes, her phone dinged. Emma's eyes snapped open giving the ceiling a look that could kill before she reached over and grabbed her phone harshly.

"Six texts?" she muttered to her screen, confused. Abruptly, she realized that her phone had been on her nightstand all along, she forgot to grab it in the morning and then apparently forgot its entire existence. She opened her messages hastily. One from Henry letting her know he was staying at Regina's another night, one from Mary Margaret showing a picture of Neal smiling like a prince behind the mayor's desk, and four from Killian including the most recent one. Ever since she showed him the basics of texting, he had quite taken to it, sending her messages when they were apart, in turn Emma had developed a special appreciation for them.

_**7:37- Good morning, how are you love**_

_**8:02- Need any help with paperwork today?**_

_**10:14- You're busy I take it. Well you at least need to eat. I'll bring you something for lunch.**_

_**11:58- I'm on my way. Can't wait to see you love**_

Emma's heart melted and she tried to blink away the fresh tears her eyes were shedding.

"Dammit!" she sobbed, "this is so annoying!" she wiped her eyes in frustration and quickly composed a reply to Killian.

_**12:03- I'm at home.**_

No sooner was the text sent that Emma regretted it. She was suddenly nervous but somehow excited, like a teenager before a crush comes over. Despite her juvenile reaction, she tried to think rationally. Did Killian really need to see her like this? She herself had no idea what was going on, it would probably scare him. She knew it was too late and that he was already on his way to her. If she asked him to stay away, she wasn't sure what he would do. Respect her wishes, surely? No, he would come to her anyway. The truth was, she didn't know what she wanted more.

God! Why was she crying?! She pulled her duvet up over her head in defeat and curled up into a ball, a fruitless attempt to shield herself from the pain that seemed to be coming from every direction inside her. The darkness was helping, she regulated her breathing and her crying slowed and quieted, however, the ever present pain persisted with subsequent waves of intense nausea. Her body ached from the force of her symptoms. As the minutes passed, her acute awareness that Killian would walk in any moment paralleled her need to stay beneath the covers.

"Emma?" she recognized his low, deliciously accented voice on the other side of the door. _Oh God._ He knocked. "Love? You in there?"

Without thinking, "No!" she called childishly, and then scrunched her face up in embarrassment. R_eally Emma?!_ But she was suddenly very self-conscious.

Silence. She waited under the covers, not making a sound. Then- "Are you decent? I'm coming in." _Thank God_. She heard the welcome click of the door unlatching and blew out a breath. Confusion ensued- did she want to see him or not? She still didn't seem to know.

Slowly, she unfolded the duvet away from her face, and peaked out, afraid to imagine which half of hell her face looked more like. Whatever emotional roller coaster Emma was on, she wanted off, because she knew the second she saw him that she always wanted to see him, and that she must be crazy for ever questioning it.

_Why do men ever put up with women?_ She wondered.

For Killian's part, his confusion was short lived. The second he saw her puffy red face, still wet with tears, concern was all he felt for his Swan.

"Bloody hell, Emma. What's the matter?" he pleaded, coming to her side. She just shook her head and tried to wipe her face, but Killian's hand came up to do it instead, his thumb rubbing gently under her eyes. She finally looked up.

"Nothing," she sobbed, then shook her head hating how much of a girl she was being, "I don't know." As soon as she spoke, Killian's face fell.

As far as he knew, nothing major had happened in town, and Emma was not one to miss work, go home and cry over something menial. Which left himself as the reason for her unhappiness. He had been fearing this. In particular, the moment Emma would succumb to her insecurities and abandon ship. He was especially hopeful, though, that since their date, this moment would never come. Since she had asked him, she had come to him, he supposed she was finally ready to embrace them as a couple. And then she had showed him some of her past, she was finally opening up, he was making progress.

Still, he reckoned if the time ever did come, that he would just be grateful for what he did get. For every day she graced his presence like the tough lass he knew she was and the princess she deserved to be treated like.

He tried to smile. "Well, love, tell me. What can I do?" he brushed some of her hair away from her puffy face, a gesture that he thought nothing of, except that it felt perfectly natural to touch her. But Killian in no way could have guessed its entire effect. To Emma, it was a gesture that meant everything, though it was something she could only count experiencing from three people. In Emma's eyes, the importance of such a touch was perhaps because it seemed so ordinary, maybe even utterly unimportant to some, and above all, there was no real need to brush someone's hair out of their face. Because of that, it was a gesture born completely out of concern and love, the whole thing screamed _I care. _An idea that was progressively less and less intimidating to her. She leaned into his touch, letting the feel of his presence wash over her.

"Stay," she nearly moaned. With that one word, Killian felt relief jolt through him, inflaming his every nerve.

"As you wish," he exhaled, and pressed his lips to her forehead tenderly. Emma closed her eyes when his lips touched her skin, again having the urge to bawl.

"Give me a moment," He spoke low, his voice lilting toward her, rough and sweet all at once, like sugar. Rich, raw, dark brown sugar. Emma didn't open her eyes as Killian released her hand. She heard him kick off his shoes and then what sounded like some piece of clothing hit the floor. _Please be his pants,_ she prayed. She couldn't resist peeking one eye up at him. He had only removed his vest, but somehow sensing her less than honorable intrigue, he gave her a side glance and an irritatingly knowing grin.

"You know, if you wanted to get me into bed, all you had to do was ask."

_Goddamn that voice._

Even in her state, it echoed inside her and went straight to her center. Then, it hit her like a slap; the realization that the first time they would lay in a bed together, she would be hormonal and on her period. She frowned.

Killian however, took this as her reaction to his quip and he immediately apologized. Emma gave him a small smile and shook her head. He climbed beside her, and ever the gentleman, on top of the covers, which naturally did little to satisfy Emma. She turned to face him, and then realizing she couldn't get close enough, tossed the covers off and moved to join him on top of them. His eyes widened at her.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, looking down at her clothes for a possible stain.

"I will never get use to this realms attire," he admitted, astonished. She watched his eyes darken, his gaze suddenly fiery over her like he had never seen a womans body. It heated her already furnace-like center, but the pain was becoming less notable with Killian distracting her.

"What do you call these?" he asked gruffly, dragging his hand over her hip and down her thigh.

"Yoga pants- ah," she gasped as he gripped her ass and pulled her flush against him. Sudden and desperate desire shot through her. Killian, although a gentleman, was still a man, and he had so wondered at what kind of contraptions women kept under their unique dress in this realm. If their horseless carriages and strange talking devices were any indication, he would be just as lost. He wouldn't have had to wonder very long if he had never crossed paths with Emma, but his unwavering fidelity to her kept his imagination very active. When they had kissed, and he put his arms around her or ran his hand down her back, sometimes he felt straps of sorts, perhaps what could be a tiny corset? Once he felt nothing at all, which nearly pushed him over the edge, knowing her bare chest was (tentatively) one less layer away. Now, in Emma's room -in her bed no less- surrounded by her intoxicating scent, he simply couldn't resist a little gratification, nor could he slow the stirring below his belt.

"And this…?" his hook moved to the V-neck on her tank top, and he pulled down, revealing her lacy cotton bra with such calculated slowness that its carnal implication could not be missed. All the while he kept his piercing blue eyes on her, only breaking contact for a deliberate glance at her chest. He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers as his lips grew into a purely lascivious smile. Emma closed her eyes, distracted from her body's pain as a pleasurable hum zinged through her.

"It…It's called a bandeau," she said, not even ashamed at how breathy she was. The cold metal of his hook rested between her breasts and the hot hardness of him pressed against her was making her crazy. She didn't remember being this vulnerable and affected with him during her last period. Of course, he hadn't been in her bed, pressed against her with his hand on her thigh and hook in her bra then either.

He paused. "A bandeau? I know that term," he said, excited to understand something from this world. "Although where I come from it was a word for a scrap of material that was used in ones hair, to hold it back. This," he cocked an eyebrow as he glanced down at the swells of her breasts, "is a much better use. Preferably, though, I would have nothing in the way." Emma smiled, uncharacteristically shy, and Killian's own smile grew at the sight.

"You feel chilled, love. Get back under your blankets," he said after a moment, adjusting her tank top back to its original modest position. She did feel a bit cold beneath his fingers, but truthfully, with her incredible body covered under the duvet he knew he would feel less tempted to ravish her. Killian was nothing if not a patient and perceptive man, and, though he was quite aware (as a certain favored part of him was) that they were in a bed together, he knew the matter of her crying needed to be addressed and because her distress seemed honest she likely had no ulterior motive for asking him to stay. Aside from that, he was quite sure he wanted his Swan to be a quivering mess for a different reason when they got to that stage.

"No, I'm more comfortable here," she sniffed. And she was, because she seemed to be having another hot flash, although she was sure Killian was to blame for some of it.

Killian sighed and kissed her hair, then lifted her chin so she would meet his eyes.

"Now tell me, love, what is going on. You gave me a fright. Thought you were going to tell me you didn't want to see me anymore."

Emma felt her eyes brim once more with tears (probably not for the last God damned time either) as she looked up at him, his eyes full of concern. She snuggled closer putting her face into his neck and wrapping her leg over his, pushing every part of her as close to him as possible, this whole thing feeling somehow natural. He gladly welcomed her advance, embracing her ardently.

"Nothing, I'm just sick," she offered lamely, it was worth a try.

Killian's brows knitted together. He had seen his Swan brave evils and foes and difficult situations without breaking a sweat, he simply could not imagine her shedding tears over a cold.

"You're not coughing, is your throat sore?"

"It's not a cold; I'm just not feeling well."

Such excuses were tried and true in Emma's past, specifically for the type that she use to date- 'one and done' (never want to see you again). It happened a few times that they would continue a fake interest in her, under the impression she was a typical girl who was looking for a relationship and needed letting down easy. It was her clever way of scaring them off and having them think it was their own decision- the one and done men all go running for the hills at the thought of having to take care of a flu infected or period complaining woman. But with Killian, as most things were she was discovering, it was different. She found, despite her natural instinct to suffer silently, she actually wanted him to stay, she was just truly unsure of how many details he would be comfortable with, and if she even wanted to share.

"Hmm," Killian replied, thoughtful.

As Emma expected, after a moment he spoke again.

"Aye, that you're unwell is apparent, but that's not the whole truth. Is it?"

"It's nothing," she shrugged. He pulled away to look at her face again, sensing her distress.

"Emma. I've seen you cry, love. You don't have to be embarrassed," he said simply, knowing she didn't show this side of her without a truly emotional situation, and he absolutely refused to think she was emotional over ending it with him, having ruled that out the second she asked him to stay.

But there was something clearly the matter, he thought, as she blinked through watery eyes up at him, some unnameable emotion swimming in those breathtaking green depths. For the moment though, he was content to just lay with her. When he tucked her head back into the crook of his neck, Emma was hopeful he had dropped it. She wriggled against him trying to get comfortable, her body and head aching again now that the brief pleasure high he had given her (with only a look and a comment) had passed. As she relaxed and pressed into him, it was as if Killian's whole body sighed at the feel of them pressed together, _finally,_ it said. He ran his hand soothingly up her back, then down, squeezing her close. After a few blissful minutes, instead of feeling the familiar warmth that two bodies pressed together made, he was at this point forced to acknowledge a chill between them which, unless he was quite mistaken, seemed to be coming from Emma.

"Really love, you're radiating a chill, I can feel it through my clothes." He ran his hand between their bodies searching out the source and Emma's eyes widened.

_Shit._

How was she going to explain Elsa's Ice blanket and keep her dignity? Before Emma could react, Killian was already patting against her belly and her lower abdomen.

"Right here," he insisted, pressing gently, "wait," and without pretense he unabashedly lifted her shirt before she had a chance to react.

He sat up to get a better look. Putting aside the shock she experienced from the move, Emma couldn't help but be enamored with the way Killian was becoming around her. He was less reigned in on controlling himself, a little more permissive in the way he touched her. Despite the situation, she was enjoying the rather possessive feel of his hand on her tummy, and briefly considered what it would be like to carry his child; she conjured an image of Killian kissing her swollen belly with affection and devotion. The thought warmed her, and then confused her, until she finally settled on blaming her hormonal state for the whole thing.

"What is this?" He asked, bringing her back to reality. His fingers were still gliding over the thin ice on her belly, testing it out. "It feels like ice." Suddenly his eyes darkened, recalling the terrifying icy texture her skin had taken when she nearly froze (albeit accidentally) at the hands of Elsa. "Emma. What is this? Did the Snow Queen find you?"

She snapped, irritation setting in. "If she did do you really think I'd be in bed crying about it!?" At Killian's confused expression, she threw her arm over her face in regret and released a sigh that was more like a growl. Emma was about done with how her body was acting. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for, love?"

She peaked at him beneath her arm. "Don't complain, you're the only one that has heard that from me today."

At once, comprehension washed over Killian as several things made sense to him, Emma watched his face enlighten with the truth and he dared to allow a tiny smirk to take shape.

"Ah," he said, and nothing more. This seemed only to frustrate Emma. She thought she wanted him to drop it, and now that he had, she was angry because he didn't question her further.

"What?" she nearly snapped. He raised his eyebrow at her as if to ask if she really wanted him to say. When Emma did not give or take an inch, Killian thought it best to continue. Though he was unable to do anything about his cheeky smile, he made quite sure to keep his voice gentle and cautious when he spoke.

"Love. I'm going to ask you a terribly personal question."


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the trick email, I don't know wtf was wrong with me trying to upload this chapter lol. Anyway, first off, I'd like to say sorry for the slow update, I have no serious excuse like pneumonia or my computer died, I'm just your average procrastinator so, my apologies. But a HUGE THANKS to everyone who followed and faved and reviewed. I can't tell you what a pleasure storm of nerves and excitement it was to get all those email notifications (this is the first thing I've ever posted online). I love you all for reading! And now, a really big shipper hug to my captain swan life partner Alex who has beta'd for me, you are amazing, I love you, and may our friendship based on food and fandoms never die.**

**This is the second last chapter for this story, one more to come.**

**A note on this chapter; it contains the aforementioned smut. **

**Chapter Two**

Emma's stomach clenched at his soft tone and she moved her arm back down to meet his eyes, which were a mesmerizing bright blue concoction of sincerity and delight.

He paused, giving her another chance to object, but Emma remained silent by curiosity and surprise. He was still half leaning up on his hooked arm and his hand was alternately grazing her hip and flitting across her stomach.

"Now, I don't intend this to come across negatively, and you, of course, as a lady, can feel free to maintain your right to slap me and send me on my way… but are you bleeding?"

Emma did not know what she expected him to say on the subject but it definitely wasn't that. She hardly knew how to react. First, she balked at his word choice, then she felt exposed- no one had ever asked such a straightforward question except maybe her doctor, certainly not any man she had been with. But then, she had to applaud his boldness. However still, now that he did know, she truly felt embarrassed. She didn't want lovey-dovey boyfriend support while she was weak and whining over her period, that's not how Emma operated. She should be able to go about it like she was used to doing most things- alone. She stuttered, at a loss for how to answer. _Lie! Deflect! Anything but acknowledge the truth!_

"What? No, I… That's…I'm sick…"

Killian was not having it. He inclined his head, something about his expression betraying amusement.

"I've been around a long time, Emma. I know the signs of a woman's monthly course when I see them." He was entirely unruffled, but Emma took offense intrinsic to jealousy, thinking of all the other women that may have experienced this compassionate copy of the pirate. Venom spewed from her mouth before she could think twice.

"Oh right, how _could_ you miss them? Even a pirate would pick up on those things after 300 years of bar whores."

Killian's eyes narrowed and the hurt that briefly flashed behind his eyes was not lost on Emma, even she was taken aback with her words. She was only able to stare at him, not knowing how to reconcile. Killian, however, knew he must choose his next words carefully. Laying beside her once more and meeting her eyes in earnest, he spoke.

"You couldn't be more mistaken. I've loved but one other woman, Emma. You tend to notice things about people you love, and as much as she thought I didn't notice, we were on a ship at sea, full of men. I noticed. I imagine in such close quarters some of my crew had even picked up a thing or two about how to speak to a lady at certain times of the month. So yes, I recognize the signs." He paused, his face reminiscent, a hollow smile ghosted his lips as he recalled some memory. She was silent, slightly embarrassed with her outburst, now that it was out there...

After a moment he came back to her.

"…For a time after Milah, I made no advances, nor did I accept any. Any woman after that wasn't, I assure you, for company or to warm my bed or even to pass the time. I had the occasional 'bar whore', as you say, to scratch an itch. It was the same type of arrangement, if I'm not mistaken, for you."

Emma's eyes softened as Killian spoke. She could hardly blame him for his past, especially since he was right, it was how she previously lived her life too.

Old Emma operated on autopilot, whirring from mark to mark, burying herself in her work assignments so she never had time to feel or think. They use to call her The Machine, or sometimes iRobot, but Emma took it as a compliment. She got results, it was why she was the highest paid bail bonds person wherever she was contracted. Well, that, and she was willing to flip the switch to bounty hunter mode if the occasion called for it.

That was all before Henry turned her life upside down and right side up again, only for Hook to knock her back on her ass.

Another part of her mind was focused on his "I've loved but one other woman" line. Killian had never been shy about his feelings for her, told her almost from day one that he would win her heart, that he cared for her and would fight for her. But he had never said the three words themselves, probably because he guessed it could send her running for the hills.

Would it? It was a bold faced lie at this point if she thought she didn't feel the same about him. She couldn't say it though. Not yet. But she was sure Killian knew that, and more importantly that he was okay with it. All she could do right now was show him.

"Love?" His voice broke her reverie.

She shook her head a little, her eyes cast down, and tried to smile instead of cry. He nudged her chin up and urged her silently to speak. When Emma thought she watched her mother burned alive, only for her to come back and not really acknowledge her, Killian's face was so tender as he wiped her tears away, smiling encouragingly and not at all disturbed by her sobbing. He now bore the same expression, this time patiently waiting for her to speak.

"I'm sorry," she said, referring to her mood swing. She tried to continue smoothly but failed entirely. "I wasn't even sure, I mean I didn't think you'd want to come over and see... I just figured you didn't want to know-"

"It's alright lass," he interrupted. "When it comes to you, I always want to know." He smoothed her hair, feeling that she was tense and probably in pain.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, turning her chin up with his hook again.

"I don't know. I've never had this before." _Never had this conversation before, either._

"Never? Bit of a late bloomer Swan?" he smirked, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Shut up."

She paused to consider how best to explain, then settled on simplicity. "Usually, they're not this bad."

"I might have noticed a tad sooner if they were, darling. To be honest I already put two and two together not very long ago."

"What?" she said agape, "how could you possibly know?"

He chuckled at her. "You tend to be more prone to vexation, love. Not that anyone else would make out such an infinitesimal shift in your moods."

When she started to object the idea, he quickly added that it was because he simply paid attention to her.

Emma raised her eyebrows, uncertain if she was impressed or offended. Her view of relationships had been somewhat skewed after Neal, but she always thought this sort of thing was her business alone. She admitted, though, it was strangely reassuring that he was aware, she felt closer to him for it. So she found herself almost shrugging in acceptance; she was pleased. Shocked, but pleased.

"Tell me how?" Now that she was in acceptance of this closeness, she wanted to know more.

"It's a bit of a clue when a man has done nothing wrong and his lady is cross with him anyway," he nudged her pointedly and laughed as she blushed at the remembrance of her outburst. He continued on, teasing her only a little as he went.

"I had an inkling, you see. Since you were usually on some level yelling at me, at times it was a bit difficult, but it came together for me on your last monthly course. After you made a fuss at the Mayor's office, it occurred to me to do the math. I then had a rough idea of your schedule, love." He spoke so utterly unperturbed on the matter that Emma became more comfortable about it, and she was thoughtful for a moment as she did the math herself. Her last period was when… oh. The Mayor's office, a frozen Maid Marion, Elsa the town pariah. Their conversation came back to her, when she'd snapped at him.

_I'd rather save yours than hers, there's someone dangerous out there._

_I don't have time to argue with you about this, can you for once just do what I say?_

Later, admitting to Killian she couldn't lose him, the almost tears. How he treated her, how his kiss affected her so deeply that night.

"Wait… so you knew then? You knew now? Why haven't you said anything sooner?"

"Swan, it is not my main business to deliberately piss you off," he said, raising his eyebrow deliciously. On second thought, she nodded in agreement. It struck her then how insightful it was of him, knowing her character, to keep that information once he discovered it. She had known it to be the nature of men to use such a thing as tinder to start fights, even though she was sure none of them knew when she was or was not on her period, but Killian did. His texts from the morning came to mind.

_Good morning, how are you love…. Need any help… Well you at least need to eat._

"Alright, Swan?" Asked Killian, his hand rubbing her back. She wiped her eyes, making a face at herself.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, this keeps happening today. I told you, it's not normally like this."

He nodded. "That's an understatement. When I got to the station with your meal, Charming told me you went home sick. I've never seen you miss a day for anything other than saving the town so when I came in and saw you love, I thought only the worst." She saw his expression tighten at his last words and was about to inquire what he meant when he began talking again.

"I didn't think the state you were in had anything to do with it being your time. Do you know why this month is different?"

She blew out a breath and shook her head, at a loss. She wasn't pregnant, that was for sure, her last tryst being over a year ago and with none other than Walsh, professed lover by day, flying monkey by night.

"Usually I get mild cramping, _maybe_ a few mood swings. Never this. The pain…I've never had to deal with anything like this before. I was so grumpy my _own father_ knew why for God's sake. And Elsa," she remembered belatedly, "she knew. Gave me this to try and help." Emma patted the ice sheet on her belly, Killian's eyes followed the movement, lingering on her form.

"Ah, I see. Well perhaps you should visit Whale, love. Your grumpiness I can handle, but I loathe to see you in such discomfort," he gave her a squeeze, arms still wrapped around her.

She smiled at him, noting the genuine concern in his eyes at the same time she noticed that either the pills had kicked in or Killian was a serious distraction because her pain had lessened quite a bit.

"I'd much rather see that," he continued, referring to her smile, "you, happy."

"See, that's funny because I would rather see Grumpy than Happy." Killian angled back so he could get a better look at her face.

"What, the dwarves?" he asked incredulously.

"God, he's just smiling _all_ the time, it's not natural. Sneezy doesn't sneeze every second of every minute, I've seen Grumpy laugh, why does Happy have to smile all the time? It's just creepy."

Her small speech amused Killian so much he laughed like Emma had never heard, she found herself very enamored with the sound.

"Oh, Swan," he said calming down, "would that I could see you say that to his face. Poor fellow, at least half of them are in love with you, did you not know?" She shook her head, disbelieving, and Killian was not surprised.

"They're just protective of me because I'm my mothers daughter and they're protective of her." He only smiled in agreement, knowing it was fruitless to convince her. That was beside the point, Killian really only cared if she was convinced of his love for her.

_Speaking of,_ he thought. He was curious to see how far her hormones would push her, how she would respond. Given how she reacted when he had his hook wedged between her beautiful breasts, _favorably_, he reckoned. In the past, he had known carnal distraction to be an easy remedy for menstrual pain.

"How about a distraction?" he asked, his voice taking that low note Emma discovered she responded to embarrassingly quick.

"Distraction?" she repeated, even as he rolled on top of her. He smiled devilishly as he looked down, simply unable to hide his delight at her compromising position. Instead of answering, Killian merely leaned in first to nip at her lower lip, then to press his lips to hers fully, eagerly opening her up. Emma surprised them both by responding immediately. She clung to him like he was her life source when she heard a breathy groan from him that she felt resonate between her legs.

_That sound is going to be the death of me, _she decided.

Killian's kiss moved to the corner of her mouth, her chin, her neck. Emma threw her head back, not quite of her own accord, and not sure she had ever experienced a feeling like this one. It was as if he injected pure passion into every single little thing, whether it was his tongue on her collarbone, his hand already under her shirt searing onto her skin, or his hook pinning her wrists above her head. She felt him press against her thigh as he grew in arousal and, although it was nothing she hadn't felt before, thought it extremely erotic. Be it the fact that they were in her bed or because she was swimming in hormones, she didn't know. She couldn't carry a thought for longer than a few seconds because of it, breathing his name in search of some kind of release.

He nearly came at the sound of his name on her lips, laced with such lust, something he only ever imagined on sleepless, dark, and lonely nights. In the heat of the here and now, she put his imagination right to shame.

"Oh Gods, love, say that again." He had reached the valley between her breasts but stopped and closed his eyes, resting against her chest.

"Killian," she pleaded obediently. He pulled himself up and found her lips again, instinctively rutting his hips against hers, desperate to hear anything like that come from her once more. It worked, she moaned. A surge of pride rolled through him, incredulous at her writhing perfect form.

"Emma, love," he whispered, almost as though he was asking for permission and asking if she was alright at the same time. He still had his head about him, for the moment, and needed to make sure she was okay with this. He hadn't realized that they would be swept away so easily, although he should have known better. He rocked against her with his hips, like a nudge, trying to get her to speak. Emma's eyes fluttered at the swirling sensation that butterflied its way through her.

"Let me make you feel good, Emma," he begged, (though it sounded more like a promise) and his voice was even more delectable than usual. Emma simply gripped his arms and arched into him, which was permission enough. He continued his original assault on her, kissing her skin, moving down her body, pushing up her shirt as far as it would go until he finally removed it entirely. He met her impassioned eyes as he slid his hand from her silky golden hair to her neck, down her side, over her belly and the ice sheet, then finally up and over her breast. He could feel her nipples taut beneath the thin lace as he rubbed and massaged gently, taking care, knowing she was most likely sensitive. He watched her wince slightly and then melt and press her chest harder into his capable hand.

"You are so beautiful, Emma," he groaned, watching her become nothing but a mass of desire beneath him. He leaned down and put his mouth on her, pushing his tongue out against the bandeau. He met her eyes as he bit her nipple through the lace and pulled gently, his commanding blue eyes something sinful as he gazed at her. She mewled and squirmed, aroused beyond comprehension, and bucked her hips up helplessly, which elicited another delectable groan from Killian.

Emma moaned an unintelligible appreciation that Killian was not able to decipher, however, her last word was very clear, as she nearly shouted. He was unaccustomed to hearing her use such obscene expletives, but somehow it suited her all the same.

Killian's eyebrow raised amusedly at her curse, at her drugged like state, again a surge of pride overcame him. He was doing this to her. He was making her feel this way, and Gods how she was making him feel…

"Oh, I'd like to, love," he said darkly in response, then leaned in and whispered, "but given your delicate situation, I will do my best."

She was confused for a moment at his words until she realized she had actually spoken her thoughts out loud, but Killian didn't give her a moment to feel embarrassed. Even though his voice had taken a gentler turn, his words had still sent desire shooting through her like a drug. She clenched in all the right places just imagining him taking his time with her, but somehow with just his mouth, he had already brought her to the brink.

He continued his verbal assault, enunciating deliciously slow. "But I _will_ take you, Emma. Soon. I will take you slowly so that I can savor every beautiful inch of you for as long as I can hold, and despite the fact that my body will be aching to give in, I will make you come for me until you are spent. I'm going to make you mine in the way that you have always wanted me to, I know you've imagined it. I'm going to make you ache, love. You're going to feel me everywhere," he jerked his hips against her center for emphasis, her sheathed chest heaving, "even when I'm not inside you, you'll feel me. You'll think of me, and this-" again he rocked against her, but slower and firmer, circling his hips to heavily imply the way he would move inside of her.

She did not have to wonder at the assertiveness in his voice, it was unquestionably Captain Hook, so menacingly dark and confidently authoritative, but now dripping with desire and love for her. Emma fully believed he was capable of everything he was saying, and she never wanted him to stop talking.

Killian now kept a rhythm that tortured both of them, she may as well have been naked as far as her yoga pants went, she could feel his hard cock with the added friction of his jeans on each roll of her hips. Although he could take most of the credit for Emma's state, Killian could not know the full effect his actions had. As Emma felt each thrust, the subsequent wave of pleasure was intensified by the tampon she was wearing as much as her hormones were.

"You are so beautiful, look at you," he murmured as Emma began to meet his thrusts more desperately. Through the years, Killian had of course, among other things, become an extensively skilled lover. He was in possession of a very resolute stamina and when he cared to, knew exactly how to please a woman so properly and thoroughly that there was a time before Milah when it wasn't uncommon for a lass or two to meet him from port to port. He found with Emma, the siren, his limits were being tested and never had he wanted to please a woman more. She made him feel like a lad again, on the edge and several times almost teetering off. Right as he was certain he could pull through, Emma yanked him down and into a deep kiss. Her fervent lips were intoxicating to say the least, but it was when she moved her mouth to his right ear, licked, and then sucked, tugging on his earring with her teeth, that he faltered and let loose a very uncharacteristic whimper.

_Buggering fuck, woman._

"It would scare you how long I've wanted to do that," she confessed alluringly.

He almost came right then, the familiar surge of pleasure beginning to roll through him. He thus stilled against her, both to regain some self-control and to test a theory he had now formed: that Emma was highly susceptible to his voice. He put his lips against her ear.

"I can't wait to finally be inside you Emma. I bet you are so wet for me, love. So warm and wet for me." He smiled triumphantly when Emma's breathing quickened.

"I am, Killian, please," Emma was breathless, vulnerable, something she wasn't entirely familiar with during sex. It was always get in, get off, get out. She would never have allowed anyone to take control like this, always taking it herself to get what she wanted. In all the years of methodical one night stands, she had simply forgotten what making love was like, even if any love making she did was never, ever, like this (and this wasn't even _real_ sex yet).

She forgot how it felt to have someone above her, owning her. At least, that's how she felt with Neal, but she didn't know any better then. Killian was like the sun after Neal's blackout, she understood on a primal level that this was the way making love was suppose to feel, he wasn't trying to own her, she felt like she was being freed, even as they were tethered together.

She wanted him _now_. She wriggled, trying to shimmy her yoga pants down, but Killian pressed her harder into the mattress, stopping her. Giving him a look of annoyance, she then tried to lift her bandeau, only to have Killian encase her wrists with his hook again.

"No, Emma. I'm going to make you feel good like this." Emma frowned, frustrated when she remembered her period. Killian seemed to follow her train of thought and with a grin, wielded his voice like the weapon he now knew it was.

"If you think a little blood will put me off, you must not think much of my 300 years of piracy. But that isn't how I want to take you for the first time, love." Emma's eyes rolled back as his words caused a wave of ecstasy to crash over her.

He continued triumphantly through her mewls and her attempts to raise her hips against him, "when I do take you properly, I will undress you from top to bottom before entirely ravishing you, exactly like I promised. Make no mistake love, I'll know I've succeeded when you're so bloody sore and spent and _utterly satisfied_ that you need to stay right here in my arms recovering for an entire day. Until then, you will stay wrapped like the delectable gift you are, and I promise, I will still not leave you disappointed now… Emma," he groaned when she had closed her eyes. Killian was not moving against her, but his words had nearly brought her over the edge again, and she was so intensely stimulated she could no longer look into his eyes while he verbally fucked her- for there was no other way to put it- and when she closed her eyes, the tears that gathered at the sheer force of the moment had leaked out, forced to spill over because she was at capacity, and was never more desperate for him than right in that moment.

He licked each tear, and only when Emma whimpered, hanging on her very last thread of sanity, did Killian begin to grate against her again.

"Look at me, love" he ground out, "I want to watch you fall apart for me." Emma's green eyes flew open to meet Killian's brilliant blue ones, mere inches from her and impassioned as ever. Knowing he only had a moment, Killian drank in the site of her; pale flawless skin, blonde curls damp with sweat, eyes burning, rimmed with heat, and love. At the very last second, when he felt her clench and saw her lovely features slack in that relaxed blissful, beautiful way, right before she came, he thrust against her hard, moving his hand from her hip to her center, massaging her over sensitive clit in effort to extend and carry her through her orgasm, which was by no means tame.

Killian watched in wonder and awe as Emma let loose a cry, that very well could have been considered a scream, closing her eyes and shamelessly thrusting against him as the most intense orgasm she ever had slammed into her, ran her over, backed up and ran over her again. The loudest silence crashed over her and the world dimmed out, she was only aware of the multitude of sensations fireworking inside her, and of Killian's heat against her. Her body shuddered, finally completing the release it had been so aching for. And God did she ache.

"That's it love, just for me," she vaguely heard Killian encourage, he sounded one step above wrecked himself.

"Gods, Emma," he breathed. He was very gently rocking into her now, thumb circling against her clit slower and slower to bring her down gracefully and simultaneously eliciting several more moans. She gasped, unable to catch her breath with her body still convulsing as her heart hammered in her ears, her fingertips, her belly.

"Come back to me, love," Killian pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her fiercely in admiration. After a moment she came to life and responded, pushing her tongue against his and pulling her boneless arms as best she could from the confines of his hook to scrape her fingers through his hair.

Killian finally came to a stop between her legs, but Emma, wishing he was inside her and to feel him, took the opportunity to grab his hand from her center, spread her legs and firmly press into him since he was still throbbing and hard. Emma wanted him to feel the last of her orgasm as she came down, rocking against him lazily, her walls still clenching.

This surprised Killian entirely.

"Siren," he accused when he felt her last flutter abate. He was nearly in pain with his cock straining against his jeans and her last move did not do him any favors.

Emma was dimly aware she hadn't yet said a word to Killian, and even more aware of the fact that he had yet to come, but she could feel herself slipping more and more into darkness, entirely exhausted and unable to do anything more than cling to him as satisfaction hummed through her. The thought of leaving Killian in his state concerned her in the very few seconds she was able to stay awake, sleep denying her desire to remedy that. The last thing she felt was a warm kiss to her forehead and the weight of the duvet as Killian covered them up.


End file.
